janetSo I don’t know if you heard, but the FCC is reopening its investigation into the Janet Jackson 2004 Superbowl Nipple slip.  This is how I imagined the assignment went down:

“It’s over five-years after the fact,” Malone said to Captain Meyers as he watched the beefy older man lean back from his desk, chomp down on a cigar, and light it.  Before he was his boss, Meyers used to be Malone’s partner.  Malone would even go so far as to say that when he was starting out,  Meyers had been his mentor…maybe even his friend.  But all that changed when Meyers took the promotion the Brass had been bugging him about.  “Kind of a cold case, no?” Malone continued. “Any forensic evidence is long gone.  Witnesses’ memories will be unreliable.  Are any of the original investigators still with the department?  Hell, are they even still alive?”

“Goddammit, Malone!” Meyers shouted, slamming his hand down.  “When I tell you to work a case, you work the case!  That boob is still out there walking the streets– waving its sunburst nipple ring around. Find out who’s responsible and bring ‘em in!”

“Fine,” Malone said with a grin. “But if I’m on this, I’m going to take it wherever it leads.  No matter how high up.  And whatever shit comes, you better back me up.”  He stormed out of Meyers’ office before the fat old has-been could get a word in edgewise.  He knew he had carte blanche to crack this sucker, as usually.  Malone went to his desk and picked up his two best friends in the world, a colt .45 and a flask of Jameson.  One was loaded; the other would do the same for him.  By the end of the day, both would be empty.  That’s how it is when you’re with the FCC.